


The Boy Who Has To Live

by Xx_Astrid_xX



Series: Poor Timing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Battle of Hogwarts, Bloodplay, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Corporal Punishment, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopaths In Love, Punishment, Second War with Voldemort, Slavery, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_Astrid_xX/pseuds/Xx_Astrid_xX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter loses the Battle of Hogwarts after proving to Voldemort that he is actually immortal, and so Voldemort gifts his life and care to one Draco Malfoy. Malfoy and Potter find comfort in one another, as broken, beaten, damned boys do, and soon their arrangement seems much more a blessing then a curse. However, Harry still fully intends to save the world, and he may lose the very thing he had come to find refuge in before he can fully appreciate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Receiving

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything exactly like this, so forgive me if it sucks. And y'know, I'm a child, so there's also that.

“Kill me,” Harry Potter’s voice was broken in such a horrible, dismal, commiserative manner that Draco Malfoy actually winced.  
Potter was staring at Ronald Weasley’s corpse. Molly Weasley was screeching, being held back by a weeping Arthur. Draco Malfoy seconded Harry’s plea.  
It was never supposed to be like this, Draco thought miserably. He never wanted to be a part of this war. He never wanted Voldemort to return, nor did he want to be hiding on the ‘good’ side, praying his family didn’t call to him.  
But his mother was craning her neck in a very ill-befitting manner, terror and tears in her lovely, ice blue eyes. She saw him and clutched Lucius desperately.  
“Draco!” she called out, not caring that she had interrupted the Dark Lord. Malfoy sunk close to Luna Lovegood, who looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. “Draco, come here,” she pleaded.  
“Draco,” Lucius encouraged, beckoning to his son. The shadows around his eyes were nearly black and contrasted greatly with his fair skin. Voldemort looked away from Potter to meet eyes with Malfoy.  
“Come, Draco!” Bellatrix commanded.  
“It’s alright, boy,” the Dark Lord mocked. “We will wait for you to join the proper side. The winning side.”  
Draco didn’t have much of a choice now. His legs moved him forward, but they stopped when he stood next to Harry.

 

Draco Malfoy was one of the last people to leave the building, afraid of what he would see outside. Harry Potter, dead? No, no- it couldn’t be. Malfoy’d finally worked up the courage to join the side he’d belonged on in the first place… They couldn’t lose now.  
But there he was, in Hagrid’s enormous arms as the big lump of a man cried. It was a sight Draco took a moment to observe without its connotations; a giant, rectangular man, covered in ragged clothes made of mish-mash furs and hides, giant, scraggly hair growing long from every inch of his head other than his eyes and temples. He wept like a small child, making raw, animalistic noises, and shook, clutching the body of Harry Potter as if he were a porcelain doll.  
But then, the scene’s true meaning sunk into his chest. “Potter,” he gasped, feeling emotions he’d never experienced before pile in his chest, unnamed things he didn’t want to organise. Malfoy shuddered and the girl beside him, Luna Lovegood, pressed her shoulder to his. He knew her a bit; they spoke from time to time, and she was lovely, but he still tensed at the contact.  
“NO!” The scream wrenched Malfoy from his emotionally overwhelmed state. He looked to see Minerva McGonagall, not ten meters from him. The fact that the noise had come from her, the stickly, snappy woman who had taught him Transfiguration for so long. Auntie Bella- no, Draco thought harshly, Bellatrix Lestrange- laughed the most sickening laugh Malfoy’s ever heard in his life. Draco couldn’t bring himself to look back at the Death Eaters, nor Hagrid, nor Harry.   
“No!” Seconded Ginny Weasley.  
“No!” Hermione Granger shrieked, and Malfoy thought he’d be sick.  
“Harry! HARRY!” The amount of disbelief and utter pain in Ronald Weasley’s voice was almost enough for Malfoy’s mind to officially break.  
Everyone around Malfoy, other than the sad-eyed Luna Lovegood, began to scream at the Death Eaters. Draco’s head started to pound and blood rushed to it. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, focus in on what the words were. Pain was flaring through his body; he deserved to be amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters, too. He was as bad as any of them.  
“SILENCE!” howled Voldemort before he cast a spell at them to enforce it. “It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs!”  
Draco watched the half-giant lower the boy’s body to the ground.  
“You see?” The Lord’s voice was dark and obsessed, almost hysterical. The other children on the playground had to listen to him now, didn’t they? He’d won the game! “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"  
"That beats you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, the defenders of Hogwarts shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.  
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. "Killed while trying to save himself-”  
“Liar!” Harry screamed, jumping to his feet. Draco, like most others, gave an audible gasp. How-?  
But Bellatrix cast a spell at him. His wand was out in an instant, however, and he blocked her, but it wasn’t enough; soon, several Death Eaters were casting spells upon him at once, and he fell to the ground when Bellatrix’s binding spell worked.  
“How many times do I have to kill you!” roared Voldemort. No one was moving, until-  
Longbottom and Weasley shot forward together. Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus at Neville, and Voldemort himself cast the killing Curse.  
Draco inhaled sharply. Longbottom immediately collapsed but, to malfoy’s surprise, didn’t scream or even make a sound. Weasley, too, fell, dead, right beside his friend.  
Molly Weasley let out a noise unlike anything Draco had ever heard in his entire life. Harry’s face changed into the expression of someone who’d lost every shred of light in their life, his eyes growing cold in a way Draco had seen only too often.  
“Potter-” Voldemort began, but Harry interrupted.  
“Kill me,” Harry Potter’s voice was broken in such a horrible, dismal, commiserative manner that Draco Malfoy actually winced.  
Potter was staring at Ronald Weasley’s corpse. Molly Weasley was screeching, being held back by a weeping Arthur. Draco Malfoy seconded Harry’s plea.  
It was never supposed to be like this, Draco thought miserably. He never wanted to be a part of this war. He never wanted Voldemort to return, nor did he want to be hiding on the ‘good’ side, praying his family didn’t call to him.  
But his mother was craning her neck in a very ill-befitting manner, terror and tears in her lovely, ice blue eyes. She saw him and clutched Lucius desperately.  
“Draco!” she called out, not caring that she had interrupted the Dark Lord. Malfoy sunk close to Luna Lovegood, who looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. “Draco, come here,” she pleaded.  
“Draco,” Lucius encouraged, beckoning to his son. The shadows around his eyes were nearly black and contrasted greatly with his fair skin. Voldemort looked away from Potter to meet eyes with Malfoy.  
“Come, Draco!” Bellatrix commanded.  
“It’s alright, boy,” the Dark Lord mocked. “We will wait for you to join the proper side. The winning side.”  
Draco didn’t have much of a choice now. His legs moved him forward, but they stopped when he stood next to Harry.  
He used a steady hand and sectumsempra to free him, then looked at Voldemort; if he continued to look at Potter, he may very well weep.  
“What have you done?” Draco managed bitterly. His mother tensed and squirmed, inaudibly begging her son to stop, to join her, to be silent, to obey. Voldemort met eyes with Draco.  
“I have won, my boy,” Voldemort said patiently. “And so have you.”  
Draco gave a humorless, painful laugh.  
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” the Dark Lord continued on. “And, in return, I would like to gift you-”  
“What?” snapped Malfoy, and Narcissa whimpered shortly. Draco was furious and hoped, prayed, that he could enrage Lord Voldemort enough to be killed.  
But the elder man only smiled. “Anything you would like,”  
“I want you to be gone!” The teenager roared. “I want for you to have never come back, to have never existed!” Lucius was shaking his head, but Draco didn’t look at him. Voldemort’s eyes were no more cold than they always were. As usual, Malfoy wasn’t denting anything. He never had much sway in anyone else’s life, ever. He was nothing.  
“You care about Potter and his friend,” Voldemort sounded amused; he was sick, and evil, and sadistic, and Malfoy hated him. He gave a loud, amused laugh after a short moment, throwing his head back in utter delight. Malfoy had half a mind to sock him. “Fine, then, Draco. Your gift will be the gift of life for all of your Hogwarts companions,” Voldemort nudged Ron’s head with his foot. “Except for this poor fellow, and those who have already-”  
“What about Harry Potter?’ Draco demanded. He didn’t look at the boy in question, nor anyone beside Voldemort. He couldn’t possibly-  
“It seems as if the boy is invincible. I suppose I’ll simply have to keep him under close watch until he dies naturally, then, and no better place than Malfoy Manor. We’ll keep that mudblood girl there, too- Granger, was it?”  
Malfoy looked into Voldemort’s eyes, the most eloquent gaze Draco had ever been a part of. His punishment would come… Just not right then.  
The Battle continued. Voldemort had appointed Draco to watch over Harry, knife to his throat, while his parents stood watch. Draco couldn’t keep his tears in, but luckily he was behind Potter and made no audible sign of his tears.  
“I’ll help you defeat him,” Draco promised when Granger approached them, earning her a fight with the elder Malfoys. Harry didn’t look back. “I can’t risk either of our lives right now, but the fight will continue-”  
Harry wasn’t listening, Draco decided, and silenced. The Death Eaters won with minimal deaths after Harry’s survival, and soon, they were all bound and waiting, including the students who’d been ushered away.  
The students, other than Harry and Hermione, were to be kept here, most of the Death Eaters staying to keep them in line. Dementors were being called in as well.  
Voldemort, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Greyback and the Malfoys rushed the two captives to be held at Malfoy Manor away, into the castle, to use the fireplace to arrive.  
Both would be kept in Draco’s room for the night. Greyback snapped Hermione’s wand and Draco was forced to entrust his own to his mother. The window was jinxed and Greyback and Rodolphus would stand guard outside the door.  
Most of the night, Hermione wept into Harry. Draco was uncomfortable and listened without watching, without moving, laying in his bed. He’d wordlessly conjured more blankets and pillows and magically arranged them into a bed big enough for the two Gryffindors.  
Malfoy felt as if he should apologize. He felt bad for Weasley’s death; he’d been annoying, loud, obnoxious, assumptive… But still. He was a wonderful friend, from what Draco could tell, and the Slytherin effortlessly conjured images of the ginger causing laughter, smiles, and the like from his two best mates all through Hogwarts.  
Draco would’ve given life and limb to have been Harry Potter’s friend, but the Boy Who Lived hadn’t even brought himself to shake Malfoy’s hand. Paying no mind to the ridicule he suffered from every other person at Hogwarts beside Pansy, Blaise, Vince and Greg, the coldness he’d received from Harry Potter was enough to drive Malfoy mad. And for what? Ideals pounded, shoved, tortured into him. That was hardly Draco’s fault. He was taught that mudbloods were disgusting, evil, despicable creatures the same way anyone else would have been taught that murderers, thieves, arsonists were- only worse. His father loved him so much to use the Cruciatus until his son agreed that no one could ever be as good as them, the Malfoys, the purest of the pure. His mother adored him so much that she was willing to break his fingers when he didn’t master a spell immediately, because in the real world, he’d have suffered much worse.  
But Harry Potter knew none of that… Nor would he ever. Malfoy stared at perfect Potter, crying, broken, on Draco’s bedroom floor, and suddenly, he didn’t look so enviable to Malfoy.


	2. I'm Sorry

I've tried time and time again to come back to this work, but I can't. It's too much for me. If anyone would like it, message me and I'll give it to you. I haven't the stomach for such a dark fic anymore.


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